The Messenger
by Lea of Mirkwood
Summary: From the appendices: A retelling of Aragorn's passing and Arwen going to the hill of Cerin Amroth to sleep forever. Again, based off of AIDA song, this one called The Messenger. Please read and review


****

The Messenger

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is all Tolkien's and Elton John's. You can figure out which is which.

A/N: Okay, okay. There is one more fic type thing relating to Aida, and then I'm DONE! I swear. And the last one isn't the companion to this, it's this present for Zeech about her character and Boromir. (Loosely the plot of Aida.) But that will be it, really. I just...eh...had to do this. Song is from Aida.

Arwen entered the room where Aragorn sat at the window, looking out at Minas Tirith. But he did not hear her enter, and did not move at the soft trailing of her gown on the stone floor. Finally he seemed to hear her and turned around.

"At last, my love, Lady Evenstar, fairest in this world and most beloved, my world is fading," he said in a low voice. Arwen felt her throat close with suppressed tears and swayed, overcome by grief.

"Would you then, my lord, before your time leave your people that live by your world?" she begged. Aragorn took her hands in his and kissed the soft fingers. "Not before my time," he answered. "It is my time, Arwen. Our son can take over my kingship."

Arwen looked into his grave eyes, and saw the veil of death already falling over them like a cloud. Her tears burst forth, and she brought his hands to her face and rested them against her forehead and wept. She felt the ache in her heart, knowing finally the pain of immortality when all around are mortal. Still weeping, she kissed his hands and pressed them to her heart. They looked at each other steadily, as those who know each other's souls.

"I love you," she wept, holding his hands to her breast. Aragorn lowered his head, feeling a great shame for causing his only love to feel such pain.

"And I you."

All were sent from the room where the King lay, still living, on his deathbed. Arwen stood alone by his side.

"My sword, Arwen," he whispered. "The one I carried before Andúril."

Weeping softly, Arwen found the sword for him and brought it over. He gripped the hilt and lay it over his chest as all warriors do. Arwen was silent, and only looked at Aragorn with the deepest love and the deepest pain imaginable. She bent down over him and laid her forehead on his chest, weeping and letting his fine tunic soak up her tears, so that some of her would be entombed with the one she loved. She could find no voice to plead with him to stay. He raised a hand and gently ran his fingers through her raven tresses. She finally understood the bitterness of mortality.

"My Lady Undómiel," he said softly. "this hour is indeed hard."

Arwen raised her head and looked into his grey eyes, shaking with her silent sobs.

"Yet," he said, resting his hand against her soft cheek. "It was made even in that day when we met under the white birches in the garden of Elrond where none now walk. And on the hill of Cerin Amroth when we forsook both the Shadow and the Twilight this doom we accepted." He clutched her hand. "Go there, Arwen. Walk among the niphredil once more, for I cannot. I can lay myself down now, or wait until I grow witless and fall from my throne. I have the grace to go at my will. Now, therefore, I will sleep. I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men."

"Nay, dear lord," she said, touching his cheek. "That choice is long over. No ship remains to bear me hence. I will abide the Doom of Men. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive."

"So it seems," he said, and kissed her hand softly. She bent down to him and softly kissed his lips. "But let us not be overthrown at the final test, who of old renounced the Shadow and the Ring. In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! We are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory. Now the road is ended. In your arms I'll sleep. Farewell!"

"Estel, Estel!" cried Arwen, and looked at Aragorn with her deep fathomless grey eyes. Even as she cried he took her hand and kissed it. At the touch of his lips against her hand, his eyes slowly closed forever and he slipped into the night. Arwen cried out in sorrow and threw herself on his chest and sobbed.

"My love!" she cried. "My love! Estel, Estel!" Her thin shoulders shook as she tangled her fingers in the cloth of his tunic. Her tears rained down on his still heart like a waterfall, constant and steady.

"Estel! _Uich gwennen na 'wanath ah na dhín! Boe naid bain gwannathar. Boe cuil ban firitha..._"

After her long wandering, Arwen found the hill of Cerin Amroth. She felt the grass between her toes, and looked out at the hill. It was covered in a soft blanket of niphredil, like the snow that sometimes came to Gondor.

Go there, Arwen. Walk among the niphredil once more, for I cannot.

She closed her grey eyes, feeling the wind whistle over the hills and hearing the trees singing their soft songs of fluttering leaves. She felt the touch of Aragorn's lips against hers and put out her hand, but meeting only air. A fog rose up and lapped at the hem of her gown like waves. But Arwen felt the call of the sea no longer. She searched with her eyes for the exact spot where she and Aragorn had looked across the trees and pledged their love. She found it. It was where the flowers grew the thickest. As she stepped in that place she heard his voice, soft and fleeting as the wind.

"You have my love, Arwen. You will have it forever, until the breaking of the world. You have my love until the stars cease to shine. Do you love me so, Arwen?"

"Yes!" she cried aloud, spinning around, looking for him. "I love you! Return to me, Estel! _Estelio_ _veleth_!"

The fog raised higher until all Arwen could see were the soft flowers of the niphredil, glowing with their own luminescence like stars.

"_Gerich meleth nîn_!" she cried. "You have my love! You have had it always."

Arwen felt a great heaviness fall over her, and she sat down on the ground, then lay down in the bed of niphredil. Her hair, dark as night and a raven's wing, spilled over the ground. She put her hand to her breast, holding a blossom of niphredil where the Evenstar once rested against her skin. She felt her life fading away as she looked up at the sky.

"_Boe cuil ban firitha...estelio han, estelio ammen, estelio veleth."_

Arwen's light slowly dimmed until it was no more brighter than the flower at her breast. Her grey eyes slowly closed forever and she slipped into the night.

The fog slowly lifted, and Arwen was left to sleep forever on the hill of Cerin Amroth. A green grave was placed there, around where grew niphredil. She lay there until the world was changed and all the days of her long life forgotten. But still sometimes there could be seen the figures of two, wandering the woods of what was once called Lothlórien.


End file.
